WELL: Chapter 4

How long they’d been buried beneath the sand, he couldn’t say… By the time the harsh sun had leeched nearly all moisture from his body and his mind had begun to drift into a haze, the wind carried a sound to his ears—crunch, crunch—footsteps pressing into the sand. At first he thought it a hallucination, but the sound steadily grew closer, undeniable, real. Holding his breath, Ryousuke pretended to be dead; if it was the same men who had raided the wine cellar, then this time they would surely kill him. He wanted at least to choose how he died. The footsteps came to a stop right beside them, and the sun dimmed for a brief moment as a shadow fell across his face.



“Think they’re dead?” said a man’s voice.

“Hard to say… That one over there’s rotting for sure, but these two don’t smell and their skin still looks fine,” came the reply, suggesting there were at least two of them. Something hard prodded Ryousuke’s back.

“They’re not moving. Probably dead. Let’s just get out of here.”

Just as relief started to creep in, a sudden bolt of pain lanced through his leg and he let out a sharp scream—“Gyaah!”—as the buried remains of his right foot were stomped on.

“Wh-what the hell—!?”

He cursed himself—too late to keep pretending. There was no going back now. Carefully, he lifted his face and looked up at the men standing over him. They weren’t the same ones from before; these two were dressed in plain clothes and looked slightly older. One of them, a broad man wearing a green cap, crouched down in front of him. His face seemed gentle.

“What are you doing lying out here? Stay out too long in this heat and you’ll die from dehydration, you know.”

“I… I can’t move. My leg…”

To prove it, Ryousuke dragged his injured foot weakly through the sand, and the man in the cap gave a shallow nod.

“What about the one next to you? He hasn’t moved at all.”

He looked toward Shinobu, whose hand was still entwined with Ryousuke’s.

“He was talking just a little while ago…”

The man gently rolled Shinobu onto his back, held a hand near his mouth, and pressed lightly against his wrist.

“He’s breathing. Has a pulse. He’s alive.”

Ryousuke let out a breath of relief and looked at the two men again—compared to the three who’d seized the wine cellar, they seemed more human. Maybe this time they really would be saved. The thought flickered like a faint light inside him.

“Our wine cellar—we were living in it. Three guys came out of nowhere and took it. They threw us out, and I’m injured—I can’t move on my own…”

He hadn’t meant to plead, but a tear slipped from his eye all the same, and the man in the cap gently reached out to pat his head.

“If you’ve got nowhere to go, why don’t you come with us?”

Just when the words he’d longed to hear reached him and the tension began to ease, a harsh voice cut in.

“Tamura, seriously? We can’t just take in two more people. Think about our food supply. You know we won’t even last another month at this rate.”

The one glaring at him was a thin, bespectacled man with a nervous, uptight air. He looked to be about the same height as the man called Tamura.

Turning to him, Tamura spoke with calm conviction.

“If we leave them here, I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. And if we’re rescued before our food runs out, then all the more reason to help them now. Don’t you think so too?”

He was trying to reason with the man, voice firm but not confrontational.

“We’ve got to help each other, Ibuki. For all we know, they might be the ones saving us next time.”

Ibuki scoffed and looked away. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

But Tamura’s hand had already reached out to them, steady and sure, and Ryousuke gripped it tightly, as if clinging to a lifeline, unwilling to let go.

:-::-:

Shinobu was carried on Tamura’s back, while Ryousuke leaned against Ibuki’s shoulder as they walked. During the hour or so it took to reach the underground shopping district where Tamura and Ibuki said they lived, they spoke a little. Tamura was a fourth-year student at a private university, and Ibuki a second-year at a national university—both older than Ryousuke and Shinobu. The two of them had survived because they’d happened to be in the subway’s underground complex at the time of the disaster.

“Half of the underground district collapsed too. We’ve turned the intact shops into shelters, and now thirteen—no, twelve—people are living there. At first, we had around forty, but a lot went out looking for help or searching for family and never came back. Some died from injuries… and now there’s only twelve. Not a single woman. We had eight at the start, but by the next day they were all dead. Not from injuries or anything. It was like some virus that only infects women…”

Ryousuke remembered how the guy who took over the wine cellar had asked right away if they had a girl with them. Women dying one after another—was that just here, or was it happening across the entire world? There was no way to know.

“Hey, keep moving,” Ibuki snapped when Ryousuke’s pace must have slowed. Tamura gave a wry smile and said, “Let’s take a break,” lowering himself to the sand. Shinobu was still limp, and even when water was splashed on his face, all he did was furrow his brow faintly.

“I want to hear more about the men who took over your wine cellar,” Tamura said, fanning Shinobu’s face with his cap.

“There were three of them. Really violent. Didn’t say a word—just came at us with iron pipes…”

“Tamura-san asked what they looked like. Saying they were ‘violent’ doesn’t tell us anything,” Ibuki cut in sharply.

He had a point, but the way he said it grated. Tamura must’ve sensed the edge in his voice too, because he gently waved him off with a placating “Now, now…”

When Ryousuke described the three men in detail—their appearances, how they’d taken over the cellar—both Tamura and Ibuki fell into thoughtful silence. Eventually, Ibuki muttered, “Tamura-san… it might be them.”

“We can’t jump to conclusions,” Tamura replied, “but if they were carrying iron pipes and using violence, the possibility’s there.”

Ibuki nodded emphatically. “At least we’ve got a lead. That should satisfy you, Tamura-san.”

“But it doesn’t solve anything,” Tamura said, sighing as Ibuki clicked his tongue in irritation.

“We’ve already decided to rotate night watch. That’s enough. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of running around the desert chasing down culprits.”

Their exchange drifted into territory Ryousuke didn’t understand, and Tamura, seeing that Ibuki wouldn’t budge, gave a quiet “Alright.” The mood grew awkward after that, not the kind of air that invited questions.

Dragging his feet with Ibuki’s support, Ryousuke’s left leg had grown stiff and painfully swollen by the time the irregular oval shape of the underground district’s entrance finally came into view. A short man emerged from inside and, spotting them, ran over. He gave Ryousuke such a sharp glare it was almost frightening, and then barked roughly at Tamura, “Who’s that?”

“They’re not trouble. We found them collapsed in the desert. They’ve got nowhere else to go. They’re our newest members,” Tamura replied with a sheepish smile.

The short man muttered, “Huh,” and now looked Ryousuke and Shinobu over with what seemed more like curiosity than suspicion. Then, as if tossing off some unwanted load, Ibuki dumped Ryousuke down into the sand.

“Taki, take this one home. I’m done for the day.”

As Ibuki disappeared alone into the depths of the subway shelter, Tamura watched his back with a troubled expression. Then he turned to Ryousuke and, as if to defend him, added softly, “He’s not a bad guy, really.”

Once they passed through the entrance of the subway shelter, the light quickly faded, and the place became pitch dark—just like the cellar. The short man named Taki, who had been supporting Ryousuke, lit a candle. Guided by its small flickering light, they walked through the deserted underground arcade.

"If you don’t like it, you can move somewhere else, but… would you mind staying here for tonight at least?"

With those words, Tamura, still carrying Shinobu on his back, led them into what had once been a shoe store. He seemed busy and left soon after, saying, “I’ll come back after the meeting.” Left alone with Shinobu, Ryousuke held up the candle and glanced around the shop. The floor was covered in a short-pile grey carpet, warmer than the hardwood of the cellar. A fabric-upholstered bench sat along the right wall, and mirrors of various sizes lined the store. The rubbery scent typical of shoe shops lingered in the air, a little unpleasant, but still—this place felt far more like a home than the wine cellar ever had.

And that wasn’t the end of the comfort.

Taki soon returned, saying Tamura had asked him to bring a curtain and some food and water.
“Here, this is dinner and some water. For you and that guy who’s still asleep. Tamura-san said to try to get him to drink, even if he’s out.”

He handed over two loaves of bread and a plastic bottle of water with careless ease, but Ryousuke received them with reverent hands, like they were treasure. Just knowing he’d be given something like this every day from now on was enough to fill his eyes with tears. The days of gnawing cork stoppers and vomiting them back up felt like some distant nightmare.

After explaining that the curtain was meant to serve as a blanket, Taki leaned in and peered into Ryousuke’s face, murmuring, “Hey… you don’t happen to know anything, do you?”

“Um, about what…?”

Taki folded his arms, murmuring a vague “Hmm…”

“Nah, never mind. I’ll probably hear about it at tonight’s meeting anyway.”

Even so, he wandered around the shop aimlessly, showing no sign of leaving.

“Hey, didn’t they say Tamura-san found them?”

Without context, Ryousuke had trouble understanding what he meant. But it brought back the strange conversation between Tamura and Ibuki earlier, the one that had left a noticeable tension between them.

“They said they had a lead on the culprits, but that there’s no way they’d actually find them… something like that,” Ryousuke offered.

“Huh,” Taki muttered, but it seemed to be enough for him. Just as he was finally about to leave, Ryousuke called out and stopped him.

“Um… what culprits?”

Taki turned back. “Hm? Uh… well…” He looked like he was trying to decide how much to say, then returned to Ryousuke’s side and let out a long sigh.

“Guess someone’s gonna tell you sooner or later, so I might as well. …Yesterday, something happened here. That’s why Tamura-san and Ibuki-san went out—to look for whoever did it.”

“Something happened…?” Ryousuke asked, uneasily.

With a shrug, Taki said it.

“One of our people… was killed.”

:-::-:

Around ten o’clock at night, Shinobu—who hadn’t so much as twitched until then—let out a low groan for the first time. He furrowed his brow and whimpered like a dog. When Ryousuke gave him a firm shake, the eyelids and lips that had remained tightly shut all this time cracked open just a little. Ryousuke shoved the mouth of a plastic water bottle between the half-open lips and forced water down his throat. Unable to swallow, Shinobu spluttered and spat most of it out, then suddenly opened his eyes wide and began coughing violently.

“Ryou-chan… where are we?” he rasped, clutching his soaked chest and curling up as he looked frantically around.

“Did… did I die?” he asked.

Ryousuke patted his shoulder lightly and gave a small laugh.

“Idiot, we were saved. Some people living in the underground shopping arcade near the subway took us in. They made us part of their group. And look at this.”

He thrust a bag of bread in front of Shinobu’s face.

“Bread, man. Bread! They gave it to us for dinner. For a while, we don’t have to worry about food anymore.”

But Shinobu didn’t seem to understand. Even after hearing all that, he didn’t show any joy—just started trembling with a frightened look in his eyes. And then, again, he asked the same question: “Ryou-chan… where are we?” Ryousuke started to worry that maybe Shinobu’s mind had been affected by the heat back in the desert.

Just then, a loud knock pounded against the shop’s door. Shinobu let out a high-pitched cry and clung tightly to Ryousuke. In the glass door behind him, the faint silhouette of Tamura appeared, candle in hand. Still clinging to Ryousuke and visibly trembling, Shinobu didn’t look up until Ryousuke, irritated by the childlike behavior, smacked him on the head and peeled him off.

Tamura, looking puzzled, apologized gently, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m glad you woke up,” he said kindly. “We were worried about what might happen. You’re not feeling sick or anything?”

Perhaps comforted by the warm tone, Shinobu gave a small nod.

“There are a few things I’d like to talk to you both about,” Tamura continued. He dragged over a box-shaped bench from within the store and sat down before introducing himself once more.

“I’m Tamura, sort of the group’s organizer around here. First off, there are a few rules I’d like you to follow if you’re going to live with us. Nothing too serious. Just—don’t fight with anyone, don’t take what isn’t yours, and follow the group’s rules. Stuff like: using the toilet outside the arcade, taking a night watch shift every two weeks, participating in regular meetings, and keeping the well clean. That’s about it.”

“The well?” Ryousuke asked.

“Yeah. We’re not sure if it’s because the plumbing’s broken or if it’s natural groundwater, but there’s a spot where we can draw water. Everyone calls it ‘the well.’ If you go about ten meters west down the main road, you’ll see a spot surrounded by concrete rubble. There’s a seventy-centimeter crack there—drop a bucket and you can draw water. Anyone’s free to use it, but we ask that you keep it clean. It’s our lifeline here.”

The fact there was a water source shocked Ryousuke. Compared to the cellar, this place—with both food and water—was like a dream.

“It’s already late, so I’ll introduce you to the others tomorrow. Also, if you’re out walking around at night and one of the watchmen stops you, make sure to give your name clearly. Everyone’s been on edge lately because of… well, something unpleasant that happened.”

Tamura used the word “unpleasant” vaguely, but Ryousuke was sure he was referring to the incident Taki had mentioned.

“I’ll stop by again tomorrow morning. You’re both probably exhausted, so get some rest tonight. I live four stores down to the left in a watch shop—if you need anything, come talk to me anytime.”

It was hard to believe Tamura was only five years older than him. Despite how horrific the situation was, there was order here. Ryousuke had the sense that this man probably knew everything there was to know.

“Um…”

Tamura, who had just started turning to leave, paused at Ryousuke’s voice and looked back.

“We really don’t understand anything,” Ryousuke said. “Suddenly everything around us turned to sand. We don’t even know what happened… If you know something, could you tell us?”

Tamura smiled faintly, his expression somewhat unreadable.

“It might be better to save that conversation for when things have calmed down a bit.”

But he didn’t say he didn’t know.

“Nothing you say now will surprise me,” Ryousuke insisted. “Please, just tell me.”

Tamura exhaled quietly, then spoke.

“I don’t know that much myself. But someone happened to see what happened that day—I heard the story from them. According to them, the sky suddenly lit up and was filled with rainbow-colored light. Then there was an enormous shockwave, strong enough to lift you off your feet. After that, everything around them—people, buildings—started turning into white sand. It wasn’t like an explosion. It all just crumbled away, like grains falling from an hourglass. They said it was strangely beautiful.”

“Sounds like something out of a fantasy,” Tamura said with a laugh, though he added quickly, “Not that there’s anything funny about it, of course.”

“It might sound like a dream,” he continued, “but no one else actually saw what happened. Still, the fact remains: the city turned into a desert. No one can deny that.”

If everything really had turned into sand, then the surroundings of that basement—his parents, the house—had become part of the white dust that had swallowed them whole. Kicked aside, crushed beneath his feet, scattered across the floor of those stairs… The thought was painful. But deep down, there was still a part of him that couldn’t accept it. Couldn’t believe it.

“Can I talk to that person?” Ryousuke asked.

Tamura’s lips closed, his gaze lowering.

“…That’s not possible,” he said softly. “He died yesterday. After seeing the light, he lost his sight, and he suffered terribly. Right to the very end, he was just a poor kid.”

After Tamura left, Shinobu’s trembling grew worse. He clung to Ryousuke’s hand and refused to let go. Worse than that, tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, and his whole body hunched in on itself as he started to sob.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ryousuke asked.

He couldn’t understand why Shinobu was crying so hard in this situation, where food and water were finally guaranteed.

“Ryou-chan… Ryou-chan…”

He kept calling Ryousuke’s name, clinging to him no matter how many times he was pushed away. It was annoying enough to make Ryousuke snap and hit him, but still, Shinobu clung with the desperation of someone who seemed to believe he’d die if they were separated.

In the end, Ryousuke gave in.

“What are you so scared of? Just say it clearly!”

But there was no answer. Shinobu only kept sobbing, trembling as he rubbed his face into Ryousuke’s chest like a lost child.

Comments

Popular Posts

Second Serenade [Illustrated]

COLD HEART Series [Illustrated]

List of Novels by Konohara Narise (Chronological Order)